


It's a White Oahu Christmas

by Signe (oxoniensis)



Category: Eureka, Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Leverage, Supernatural, White Collar
Genre: Advent Calendar, Christmas, Crossover, Fluff, Gen, Mashup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-29
Updated: 2010-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxoniensis/pseuds/Signe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a Christmas miracle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a White Oahu Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> For Vonilyn, who gave me the prompt: 'a eureka/white collar/leverage/spn/hawaii 5-0 christmas mashup' for day eight of my 2010 Advent Calendar. Beta thanks to athenejen. Originally posted [here](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/462383.html).

"An Aunty Leilani's Strawberry Punch for the beautiful young lady," Vincent says, placing the glass in front of her with a smile. He tops it off with a little pink and yellow umbrella, two straws, and a handful of strawberries. When in Hawaii, do things the Hawaiian way.

"Really? You think so?" she asks. "That I'm beautiful? You're not just saying that so I'll tip you better? Because I don't like giving tips. Sophie says I should, but I don't see the point if I've already paid."

Vincent blinks. She's not his usual customer — she looks out of place on the beach in her black skinny leggings and leather tank top. It might be Christmas, but it's still sunny and warm, and the surf's up, every other girl on the beach in a bikini. Vincent himself is wearing a particularly fetching shirt with a pattern of purple caffeine molecules, a going-away present from Jack and Zoe. No one else is in leather. But she definitely has something about her. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," he assures her, because although she looks like she can take care of herself — she reminds him a little of Jo in that respect — he spots a slight air of uncertainty under all the confidence.

She beams, wide and genuine, like she's not used to hearing compliments. "I'm Parker," she says, holding out her hand.

"Vincent," he says in return, and shakes her hand. He thinks the ambiguity of the name suits her.

She takes a sip of her strawberry punch. "Ooh, this is good," she says.

"My own secret recipe," Vincent says.

"I might have to steal it," Parker says, looking serious. "Though I probably shouldn't have told you that."

Vincent doesn't think she's joking.

*

Vincent's second favorite customer, Neal — Kono Kalakaua will always be his favorite after that time with the drug lord and the shoot-out and the saving of Vincent's life by throwing herself and her surf board in front of the bullets — shows up a few minutes later. He takes his usual seat, kicking the sand off his feet (Vincent imagines that back home Neal must have always been immaculately dressed, even though he fits in perfectly at the beach), and browses the menu studiously. The only time Vincent misses his old extradimensional pantry at Café Diem is when Neal's around — if he had access to it now, he could make Neal anything he wanted. He's certain Neal's taste would be superb.

As superb as Neal's physique. Vincent can't help always being a tad distracted when Neal's around, especially when he's dressed in nothing more concealing than a pair of wet swim shorts. The urge to watch and admire battles the urge to flirt battles the urge to cook Neal the perfect meal. Not that the three need be mutually exclusive. "What can I get you today?" Vincent asks huskily, letting his gaze linger on Neal's fine shoulders.

Neal smiles at him, and if Vincent didn't know for certain that there were no Eureka scientists currently on Oahu, he would think the sun dimmed for a moment. "The sea bass and crayfish tails in a parsley cream sauce sounds delicious."

"I promise you won't be disappointed," Vincent says.

"I'm sure I won't," Neal says. His eyes really are remarkably blue. Vincent thinks he'll name a drink after him one day, once he creates something worthy of the incredible Neal Caffrey.

*

It must be the day for unlikely customers. His latest makes Parker look at home on the beach. A trench coat, really? With the collar turned up. It's 74 degrees in the shade. And a tie. The only other person Vincent's ever seen on the beach wearing a tie is Danny Williams, and he just can't help himself.

Vincent doesn't bat an eye, though, when the guy sits down and ask for a coffee — living in Eureka made him immune to the unusual and strange. He notices them, certainly, but they don't faze him.

"That'll be one dollar ninety," Vincent says, handing over the steaming cup.

The man looks puzzled for a moment, then makes a silent "oh." He pats at his pockets. "I don't appear to have any money," he says.

Vincent doesn't really mind. He came to Hawaii for the ambience and the opportunity to cook without having his kitchen invaded by killer robots or zapped to another dimension or any of the other regular incidents that befell Eureka, not for the money. "That's okay," he says. "Enjoy your coffee."

The man nods his head graciously. "Thank you," he says, and drinks the coffee in one long gulp. It was hot — Vincent would _never_ serve lukewarm coffee — and it had to have burned, but the man simply puts the cup down, rests his hands on the bar, and sits quietly, almost expectantly.

Vincent takes his cup and fills it up again.

"You here for business?" Vincent asks.

Trench Coat Guy tilts his head to one side. "In a manner of speaking," he says. "Recruiting," he adds eventually, as though that explains it all.

*

"Kono," Vincent exclaims when he sees her walking up the beach. She waves back at him, jogging up to the bar. "What'll you have today?"

She settles her board against a stool and leans forward on her elbows. "Just a rainbow shave ice, please, Vincent."

Vincent lets his disappointment show. "I know, I know," she says, laughing. "You always want to make me something special, but—" she lowers her voice, "I'm actually working right now."

"But it's Christmas!"

Kono shrugs. "I tried telling my boss that, but you know what he's like."

Vincent does. Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett is a workaholic to put the most focused scientist in Eureka to shame. Vincent has more than once considered the possibility that he's a robot.

Vincent wonders which of his customers Kono is keeping an eye on. The obvious choice is Trench Coat Guy, but even though there was a strange, old look to his eyes, far older than his face, Vincent didn't get a bad feeling about him, and Vincent's always been a good judge of people. He hopes it isn't Neal. Neal's gone straight these days, or at least mostly straight — a little wavy sometimes, but nothing that would catch the attention of the Five-0. Which leaves... Parker. A shame — Vincent likes her. Though he has the feeling that Kono might find her tricky to catch. He would swear Parker was there less than a minute ago, but now there's just a little pile of clothes on Parker's stool, and a blonde in a tiny yellow bikini heading down to the water.

*

Trench Coat Guy is chatting with Neal. Or, to be more accurate, Neal is chatting him up. Not, Vincent thinks as the prelude to anything. Just curiosity — Neal likes to know who people are, to understand them, always to be in control of a situation. He would take an enigma like that as a challenge. Vincent would bet his day's takings that Neal knows everything important there is to know about him already.

Vincent listens in as he cooks.

"Ever been to New York?" Neal is asking Trench Coat Guy.

"Once or twice," Trench Coat Guy says, not giving much away. Maybe even Neal can't charm this one into giving up all his secrets.

"I'm Neal, by the way. Neal Caffrey," Neal says, holding out his hand. Trench Coat Guy takes it as though he's not accustomed to shaking hands. "And you?" Neal prompts, when the guy makes no move to give his name.

"Oh. I am Castiel."

"An unusual name."

"Yes," Castiel agrees, but offers no explanation. A good thing Vincent only made the bet with himself.

"It's beautiful here, but I miss New York sometimes," Neal says wistfully. "Especially around Christmas. Friends. Snow. This is all beautiful," he waves his hands to encompass the beach and sea and sky, "but it's just not Christmas, you know?"

"I believe I understand," Castiel says.

*

"I don't believe it," Kono exclaims, and Vincent looks up from putting the finishing touches to a molten lava cake.

It's snowing. Real white powdery snow, falling from a blue sky with one large fluffy cloud right overhead. It's amazing, and beautiful, and everyone is looking up at it, hands out in baffled joy, catching snowflakes on their tongues.

"Merry Christmas," Castiel says to Neal, and for a moment Vincent thinks he sees huge wings rising up behind Castiel. He blinks, and all he sees are flakes of snow settling on Castiel's shoulders and making his brown hair white.

"Merry Christmas," Vincent echoes. It's a miracle worthy of Eureka.


End file.
